


06:47am on a sunday (or early as fuck, as they say in french)

by Bazzys



Category: ONF (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Sitting, Flavored Lube, M/M, Mentions of hentai, Orgasm Delay/Denial, mentions of Tentacles, seungjoon's slutty red shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazzys/pseuds/Bazzys
Summary: [#이션] lol this virgin loser reading hentaiChangyoon waits patiently for Seungjoon to notice. Struggling to contain his own excitement, he bites his bottom lip and inwardly squeals, bracing himself for the attack he’s about to be exposed to.But not even six seconds after the tweet was sent, there’s a reply.[#제이어스] i got the link from your secret stash
Relationships: Lee Changyoon | E-Tion/Lee Seungjoon | J-Us
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	06:47am on a sunday (or early as fuck, as they say in french)

**Author's Note:**

> um hello everyone. i am back *jazz hands*  
> i guess i'm in the onf tag too now, ain't that neat?
> 
> anyways, thanks to everyone supporting me during this whole experience of writing this, a special thanks to Pen for the making the meme that inspired this entire shit show!! check their fics out, they're *chef's kiss* gOOD

[#이션] lol this virgin loser reading hentai

Changyoon waits patiently for Seungjoon to notice. Struggling to contain his own excitement, he bites his bottom lip and inwardly squeals, bracing himself for the attack he’s about to be exposed to.

But not even six seconds after the tweet was sent, there’s a reply.

[#제이어스] i got the link from your secret stash

Changyoon gasps and falls backwards onto the bed. “You better delete that!”

Seungjoon just hums and scrolls on through his manga. Changyoon sits up and smacks the back of his head with the pillow hard enough to knock the phone out of his hand. “Delete!”

“Hey! What the fuck?” he exclaims and whips around, eyes ablaze.

A yelp escapes Changyoon as he scrambles to get out of reach, but forever the agile dancer Seungjoon has no problem catching up when Changyoon’s socks cause his feet to tangle in the sheets. Seungjoon lands with his entire body weight onto Changyoon and forcing a wheeze out of him, effectively pinning him in place. 

“Let me go!” Changyoon thrashes underneath him, not achieving much else than looking like a worm. “You’re a liar!”

Seungjoon grins mischievously. “Oh I’m the liar? You started it!” 

“I have a reputation to uphold!”

“And I don’t?” Seungjoon scoffs, clearly amused.

“No way, you’re too much of a wreck already,” Changyoon blurts, immediately realising he’s in deep shit. “Now delete it!” 

Seungjoon is about to make a snarky comment back when both their phones light up. They look at each other briefly before Changyoon is allowed to open the notification.

[#유 #U] my eyes… my poor innocent maknae eyes ;-;

They share another look, faces contorting with repressed laughter, but it soon bubbles down when the distinct footsteps of Hyojin thunders down the hall towards the bedroom door. In lack of a better escape route, Seungjoon grabs the duvet and throws it over the both of them, crouching down into Changyoon in panic just as the door flies open.

“What the hell are you-” 

There’s a pause then, so silent they could hear the drop of a pin. The only sound between in those everlasting few seconds are their heavy breaths and pounding hearts. The air is too thick and too hot, suffocating them in their cocoon that protects them from the wrath of a leader. For a moment, Changyoon feels like he’s floating in a distant reality, mentally not present as if he’s dreaming, and he’s not sure if it’s wishful thinking or caused by the declining level of oxygen in their master level hiding spot. 

“You perverts!”

Changyoon is brought back to reality the same way you rip off a bandaid, and the yellow light from the ceiling lamp momentarily blinds him as the duvet is thrown off of them. Seungjoon screams and shuffles to hide behind Changyoon’s back, who’s still trying to block out the light with his tiny hands.

“It burns! It burns!” he cries, frantically clawing at his eyes for the act.

“You two really are idiots oh my god,” Hyojin announces loud enough for the entire dorm to hear, before grabbing the collar of their shirts. “Now get your asses into the living room and apologise to Yuto for making him cry!”

Hyojin mercilessly drags them over the edge of the bed, and they tumble onto the hardwood floor in a tangle of limbs. He then urges them to move with his foot, kicking after them until they crawl on all four to reach the doorway where they both get stuck for trying to pass through at the same time. Hyojin’s fury is something neither of them would willingly experience again, yet the two of them always find themself being scolded for stupid shit like this. 

Changyoon manages to squeeze through first by finding leverage in Seungjoon’s face to push forward. In the living room he sees Yuto on his tiny director’s chair they accidentally borrowed home after their latest MV shoot (accidentally meaning on purpose and borrowed meaning stole), but somehow he looks even smaller with his knees tucked to his chest and rocking back and forth in Jaeyoung’s arms. Hearing Seungjoon swallow behind him, Changyoon’s palms become clammy. Oh shit, oh shit. 

He hears it the split second before it hits, and Changyoon knows they’re majorly fucked.

_Oh shit._

Minkyun’s sandal slaps behind his ear and ricochets to smack against Seungjoon’s too at lightning speed, and Seungjoon swears he hears the ding from a pinball machine somewhere. It flops to the ground just as Minkyun tackles them both, pinning them to the floor in a collective headlock. Normally, Seungjoon would be laughing his ass off at how wide Changyoon’s eyes are, but for some reason it’s not as hysterical when his own ears are about to bleed from the extensive scolding they’re currently in the midst of. 

“How dare you!?” Minkyun’s voice is so shrill that Changyoon’s world is ringing in the aftermath of each word, like he stepped on a landmine and is left with nothing but a continuous beep. “You bastards! Poor Yuto! Think of his innocence! Our reputation!” 

Minkyun is sitting firmly onto Changyoons’s back, using his free foot to stab at Seungjoon’s side. Like a saving grace Hyojin decides to pull Minkyun off of them and allow them a proper breath of air. Minkyun is still kicking and yelling curses and ominous promises at them as Hyojin drags him by the back of his shirt collar and stashes him into the cot, his anger muffled through the thin slab of wood as Hyojin twists the lock and dusts off his hands.

Changyoon is exhausted from the near death experience, and Seungjoon’s shallow breathing gives away that he is too. Their eyes connect for a brief moment, and Changyoon recognises a myriad of emotions behind Seungjoon’s; he sees relief and fear, anger as well as guilt when Yuto sniffles in front of them. 

But he also notices that oh so familiar mischief glinting just under the surface. _This isn’t over when we get off the hook, that’s a promise._

A shiver runs down Changyoon’s spine.

“What the fuck have you’ve done this time, huh?” 

Jaeyoung’s voice is low, just a murmur, but it’s enough for their breaths to catch in their throats at the same time. _Jaeyoung never curses._ It cuts through them both easily, reminding Seungjoon of those youtube videos about hot knives cutting through random shit he watched religiously for like a month. 

“Did you seriously not stop for one second,” he turns to them, Changyoon only noticing by how the feet in his direct line of sight shifts to point their way, “just one second, to think further than the tips of your own noses?” 

Seungjoon shrinks even further beside him, and he follows suit despite the way his knees dig uncomfortably into the cold floor. It’s always more terrifying when Jaeyoung is the one to scold them, not only because he’s younger, but also because he’s so calm about it. Jaeyoung doesn’t explode in a fit of rage, no, he’s always rational about it, and that makes it a million times worse. Changyoon can feel the remorse like a solder made of lead in his stomach, and he places his palms flat on the floor in a bow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, chewing at his lip to prevent his eyes from brimming with tears and vaguely hears Seungjoon apologise too.

Jaeyoung scoffs in response, shaking his head in disbelief so clearly that they don’t have to see it to know. He doesn’t say any more, just picks up the book he was reading and shuffles into his own bedroom, shutting the door loud and clear behind his back when he usually is silent.

Hyojin sighs. “You better clean this mess up before we’re all fucking fired,” he warns and unlocks the cot to haul a still screaming Minkyun across the floor and through the same door Jaeyoung disappeared behind. 

Seungjoon hears him screech “Let me go! I’ll bite their kneecaps!” before a familiar thud that can only be Jaeyoung’s book hitting its target straight on to shut him up. 

“Oh thank fuck they’re gone,” Yuto says, hurriedly drying his tears away and sitting up straighter. “Thought they’d never leave.”

“What?” Both Seungjoon and Changyoon stare at him looking like question marks, their confusion like a loading icon on their foreheads. 

“So who’s treating me to whatever I want for the rest of the week?” he asks with glinting eyes.

“Oh, you little-” Changyoon begins, but is cut off by Yuto’s raised hand.

“You wouldn’t want Hyojin to release Minkyun on you for making me cry a second time, now do you?”

“Don’t, it’ll only make it worse,” Seungjoon chides into his ear, and Changyoon really wants to deck him for sounding like he’s enjoying the little scheme they’ve been victims of. “Good job fooling everyone, Yuto, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you,” he admires.

Yuto does a tiny bow, and something in Changyoon flips like a switch. He pounces for the devil, but Seungjoon wraps an arm around his front in time to stop him. The hand slapped over his mouth accidentally smushes his nostrils too, which makes it hard to breathe. Changyoon falls onto his ass with a thud, clawing at Seungjoon's fingers where they dig into his cheeks for a gasp of air and desperately trying to convey that he can't fucking _breathe_ , but the clammy palm firmly blocking his airways make that task an impossibility.

"I'll release you if you're gonna be calm."

Changyoon makes an effort in showing he understands, nodding as best as he can in Seungjoon's hold. His thrashing has depleted the oxygen levels in his blood drastically, and the panic starts to set in. 

"You're not calm."

In his desperation, Changyoon uses the only weapon he has and bites into Seungjoon’s fingers. He yells for a second too long before he catches himself and snaps his jaw shut with so much force his gums tingle. Changyoon curses Seungjoon for always being too fucking loud, but somehow when Hyojin reappears in the doorway, the karma evens out and puts the universe back into balance. 

Hyojin is seething, furious beyond compare, but it’s not directed at the pair on the floor. His eyes are blazing straight at Yuto, and Seungjoon manages to catch glimpse of a phone in his hand before the distinct flash of a photo being taken blinds him long enough for Hyojin to stomp across the floor. He grabs the youngest by the ankle as he scrambles towards freedom and hauls him back into the room he came from. The door slams shut, followed by a series of thuds before Hyojin’s face pops back out.

“We’re talking about this in the morning,” he promises, then smiles rather ominously, “if you’ll excuse me.”

Changyoon’s spine rattles with dread at the calmness of Hyojin’s voice and at the lock being turned as he disappears yet again to do god knows what. There’s an eerie silence over them, and they dare not breathe in case that it’ll set the universe back in motion and shift the blame back to them, but as Seungjoon’s chest deflates in a tentative exhale the ground stays solid beneath them.

“Well, only one thing to do then," he says, turning to Changyoon with a serious face, "lock you out of both bedrooms for the night."

The words register in Changyoon's brain a second after Seungjoon gets to his feet. Seungjoon has already closed half the distance before he has the chance to catch up (damn that dancer's agility he mentioned earlier), but then Seungjoon fumbles with the door and Changyoon dives through the doorway right before the way is blocked. Seungjoon smacks it shut and locks it with a sigh, and tries to pass Changyoon where he’s sitting on the floor.

“Hey!” Changyoon protests and tangles his legs around both of Seungjoon’s to topple him over with a loud thud. “I got a burn mark! My elbow is ruined! My skin soiled! My strive for perfection is worthless!” Dramatically, he throws the good arm over his eyes, making a show of falling back against the hardwood floor.

“That dream died when you were born,” Seungjoon mutters under his breath, and Changyoon is on him before he utters the last word.

“What was that? Are you saying I’m ugly?” 

Seungjoon has trouble responding trying to dodge Changyoon’s hands clawing for his face. “Those words never left _my_ lips!”

A distressed gasp leaves Changyoon and he waddles closer to sit on top of Seungjoon’s slim frame. He knows full well he can’t get up that way, making sure to squeeze his knees into his ribs so he can’t do another death roll to get free. Seungjoon finally catches hold of one of Changyoon’s wrists and holds on like it’s a lifeline. To what, he doesn’t know. 

“Take it back, you dimwit!”

Changyoon drops his full weight straight onto his diaphragm, knocking the air out of his lungs in a heavy wheeze, and wrings his wrist free. In that same second the grip twists, and Seungjoon’s arms are pinned to the floor on either side of his head. 

“I said take it back!” Changyoon angrily pouts down at him.

The ceiling light casts a glow around Changyoon’s frame where he’s towering over him, and for a moment he pauses to notice the disturbed dust flying around in the air surrounding them. He sees the way Changyoon’s knitted eyebrows accentuate the spark in his eyes despite the backlight, feels the warmth of Changyoon where they’re connected. He can’t move his arms, but his heart is hammering away at a frightening pace, like a freight train running wild. 

Seungjoon knows that the weight in his stomach isn’t Changyoon.

“No,” he murmurs into the limited space between them.

“Let’s see how pretty you look with my spit all over your face then,” Changyoon quips and hacks up a proper spitball.

“Changyoon, don’t,” Seungjoon protests and tries to get away before it’s too late.

Changyoon doesn’t listen. He lets the spit dangle from his mouth in a string threatening to break any second. Seungjoon can’t move, and thrashing only makes it even worse. Changyoon leans down, closer to his face, the spit nearly making contact with the tip of his nose, and Seungjoon whimpers.

Time stops existing when Changyoon freezes above him. Every muscle in him goes rigid, stiff as a board and unmoving. For several long seconds Seungjoon bores his eyes into the wall on his left to avoid seeing Changyoon’s face, his lips pursed in a tight line, and he thinks he might actually cry. His cheeks are burning, the tips of his ears too, and the white hair does nothing to hide it.

When Changyoon finally reboots and sucks the spit back into his own mouth, it’s deafeningly loud in the crushing silence.

“So it’s true then,” Changyoon mutters, and Seungjoon is confused at the lack of disgust in his tone. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it before Changyoon speaks again. “You’re not as slick as you think you are, I’ve seen you staring.”

This startles Seungjoon enough to face Changyoon again. He always knew his eyes were too honest, but he never expected to be called out this way. Changyoon stares back, expressionless, coldly observing Seungjoon’s wide eyes. _When did he get this close?_

The air grows hot and humid, or maybe it’s just Seungjoon who’s sweating, he doesn’t know. He never wished more for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow him whole than he does right this instant. Changyoon shifts on top of him, sits back further, and Seungjoon panics harder. At the slightest change of pressure on his wrists he rips them out of Changyoon’s hold, and instinctively grabs at his hips to stop him from moving another millimetre, but it’s too late. 

He twitches against the back of Changyoon’s thigh a second time. But this time, it’s even more humiliating.

Seungjoon realises their position, Changyoon effectively straddling his lap as he himself sits upright, inches away from Changyoon’s face. He’s holding Changyoon’s hips in an iron grip, afraid that if he as much as breathes the world will go to hell. Changyoon’s breath carries a hint of their dinner, and mixed with his cologne it’s too much for Seungjoon. 

He hides in the crook of Changyoon’s neck and screws his eyes shut to prevent tears from escaping. Changyoon goes pliant in his hold and hugs his head closer.

“Hey,” he whispers after a while, and something in his voice urges Seungjoon to lift his head and look up at him through thick eyelashes. Changyoon smiles, his palms on Seungjoon’s cheeks gently. “Don’t give me those puppy eyes,” he mumbles and shakes Seungjoon’s face. His smile bleeds away as their eyes reconnect. “I’ve actually wanted to do this for some time now.”

Seungjoon’s eyebrows twitch. He’s about to ask about what, but then Changyoon’s lips are on his, and he forgets all about everything. Changyoon tastes like chicken and chapstick, the kiss soft and careful until it isn’t. Changyoon’s warm, even more so now when his lips part to run his tongue along the seam of Seungjoon’s mouth. Seungjoon isn’t one to deny Changyoon anything, he realises, as his own jaw falls lax in invitation at the barely there question. Changyoon’s wet too, his mind supplies when their tongues start to explore.

Seungjoon’s fingers dig into Changyoon’s skin, bruisingly so, unyielding where his nails create little crescents in their wake, yet they follow so easily when Changyoon tryingly presses impossibly closer. Seungjoon breaks away to gasp for air, and Changyoon repeats the movement with more confidence this time. He crumbles against Seungjoon’s front, breathing out a strained curse straight into Seungjoon’s ear, and Seungjoon almost comes from that alone. He encourages Changyoon to continue, guiding his hips in languid movements with his hands. 

Changyoon’s breath hitches and it sends Seungjoon’s mind into a frenzy. He angles his hips and arches his back more into it. A choked moan tumbles from his parted lips when their erections brush through their shorts, and Seungjoon dives back into the crook of Changyoon's neck to stifle his own loud mouth when Changyoon's fingers stab into his ribs.

"Fuck, Yoon," he nibbles against his skin, running deft fingertips along his spine to feel him shiver against him.

Changyoon only grunts in response, head tilted back to allow Seungjoon's mouth easier access. He clutches Seungjoon's shirt in tight fists to ground himself, and it gives Seungjoon a rush of confidence, enough to snake his hand down to spread across Changyoon's lower back and press him down onto himself harder and keeping him there. At the same time he bites at the vein in Changyoon's neck, who jolts on an airy and light moan. He pounds a weak fist against Seungjoon's shoulder in a sense of defeat.

"Okay, fuck," he says, the words coming out strangled, as if he's forcing them out on the very last air of his lungs.

Seungjoon rubs Changyoon's hips into his own once more, if not only to pull another whine from him, muffled by a bottom lip caught between his teeth. He soothes the abused skin with his tongue, alternating the pressure between his words. 

"Bed? My ass hurts."

Had they not been so close, Seungjoon would miss the way Changyoon snorts. 

"Ass? You don't have an ass," he mumbles, his mind only partly on the conversation and mostly on the pattern Seungjoon's thumbs draw on his naked skin above the waistline of his shorts. He does feel Seungjoon's lips part in a smile to hum against his adam's apple, however.

"But you do," Seungjoon points out with a tap to his hipbone, letting his hand other glide over a full cheek for emphasis until he can squeeze the thigh just below. He pulls away, staring deep into Changyoon's hooded eyes, "and I kind of want it on my face right now."

Changyoon's eyes visibly darken at that, and Seungjoon hears a victory bell go off in his head. 

"Fuck," he shudders out, scrambling to get his arms and legs to listen, "oh God."

"Is that a yes?" Seungjoon asks innocently, nosing along the line of Changyoon's neck.

"Is that a–what kind of bullshit question is that? Now get on the bed before you change your mind," Changyoon sputters out, too riled up to even bother coming up with a half decent retort. 

Seungjoon helps Changyoon stand before getting to his own feet, not straying far from Changyoon's body warmth and never completely hands off. They stumble into a new kiss, messy and out of balance as they levitate towards the bed. Changyoon pushes at his chest to sit on the edge, but immediately climbs back onto his lap and tangles his hands into his hair. 

Seungjoon hooks his fingers into the waistband of Changyoon's shorts, taking his sweet time to push them down the curve of his ass, making an already impatient Changyoon twist and squirm on top of him. Changyoon attempts to pull them down himself because it's taking too goddamn long, but it only earns him a harsh spank definitely too loud for their thin walls. 

And if the others miraculously didn't hear the slap itself, they could not have avoided hearing the surprised yelp it knocked out of Changyoon.

"Just get on with it," Changyoon whines quietly against his chest, embarrassment obvious in his voice and the fiery red tips of his ears.

"Shh, I'm trying to enjoy it while it lasts," Seungjoon replies, voice far calmer than the rush of blood and adrenaline in his ears.

Changyoon pushes at his shoulders for him to lay back. "You can enjoy it next time."

"Oh, who said anything about a next time?" Seungjoon teases, but allows himself to be guided onto his back by Changyoon.

Changyoon doesn't respond, only helps Seungjoon tug his shorts and boxers further down. After a clumsy and very unsexy struggle due to their position, they're finally discarded somewhere on the floor, Changyoon hastily making a move to climb up the bed when Seungjoon stops him again.

"What now?" he cries in despair.

"This is my favourite shirt," Seungjoon says and swiftly pulls it over his head, "I don't want it ruined by your cum stains."

"Cocky thinking you can make me cum from this alone," Changyoon scoffs in response, but wastes no time in swinging his left leg over Seungjoon's chest. Normally he'd feel immense shame just at the thought of how exposed he is, but this instant he wouldn't care if the entire world was watching if just Seungjoon would get his bratty mouth on him already. "I've been thinking about this," he admits when Seungjoon's hands and hot breath tickle the insides of his thighs, "every time you post one of those laying selcas."

Seungjoon hums encouragingly against the back of his thigh to continue, his bangs tickling the sensitive skin.

"Yeah, looking like you want someone to sit on you, begging me to take a seat, to use you for my own pleasure." It comes out choked as Seungjoon sucks a bruise right beneath his ass on the other side. 

"Then why don't you?" 

Changyoon doesn't have the time to answer, or lose his mind over how wrecked Seungjoon's voice is already. He doesn't get to register how Seungjoon curls his hands around the front of his legs before he's yanked down. He hasn't prepared himself for Seungjoon's tongue circling him, or his lips sucking around him, and he crumbles forward as a result. His forehead bumps into the crease between Seungjoon's thigh and his crotch, and he gasps for breath, pulling air down into his lungs in ragged breaths. Seungjoon is relentless from the start, his tongue prodding into him with expert precision and pulling moans out of his mouth like on a string.

Changyoon desperately feels the need to hold on to something, to ground himself so he doesn’t float off, and he finds anchorage in Seungjoon’s red shorts. He’s seen him in it before, probably more than he’s seen Seungjoon in anything else, but it hits him now, when it’s clutched tight in his tiny fists and bunched up around Seungjoon’s thighs, how short these shorts are. Every occasion that Seungjoon has paraded through the dorms or in public in them flashes through his mind, the red shorts barely showing beneath the hem of his sweatshirts. Changyoon always assumed he just hiked them up as far as he could, but now that the sweatshirt is gone and he’s faced with the beginning on Seungjoon’s happy trail he knows that’s not the case. They look even smaller on his hips now that they’re tighter at the front too, tented and straining to accommodate Seungjoon’s cock.

As far as staying silent goes, Changyoon forgets all about it in his distracted state of mind, and when Seungjoon pushes a finger past his rim, Changyoon rocks back on instinct with a loud groan.

“Stay still,” Seungjoon chides, but Changyoon can tell that’s an empty order by how Seungjoon twitches in front of him.

“Speak for yourself,” he bites back, struggling to not yell at how good the extra stretch is when Seungjoon pushes further in, “and anyways it seems like you want the opposite.”

“Mhm?” Seungjoon hums in a challenge.

Changyoon keens as a second finger is added along the first, hips stuttering and his breath hitching in his chest. 

“Fuck, I never noticed how long your fingers are,” Changyoon breathes out without meaning to, physically feeling Seungjoon’s shit-eating grin without having to even see it.

“Kinda like tentacles?”

Although he expected nothing less from Seungjoon, he still allows an exasperated groan to roll from his chest and out into the room. Changyoon decides that two can play this game and he's sick of being on the losing side of everything Seungjoon-esque, and although he knows it's exactly what seungjoon wants, he gives in.

Changyoon sits back properly and straightens up, using his position as leverage to strip Seungjoon of his control on him. Seungjoon's reaction is immediate and anything but discreet, moaning so loud against his rim that the tremors of it travel down Changyoon's thighs and makes them quiver, Seungjoon's hips bucking off the bed completely.

Changyoon chews at his bottom lip to keep his own moan quiet while he clutches the red fabric even tighter and starts pulling them down Seungjoon's thighs. He doesn't bother tugging them further than necessary, just enough for his dick to spring free of its sports-wear prison. Seungjoon's breath hitches in his chest at the cold air rushing to, feeding Changyoon's courage and makes him bold enough to loudly spit into his own palm.

Wrapping his fingers tryingly around the head of Seungjoon's cock, it feels less like something new and unknown, and more like it's something that was meant to happen sooner or later, a familiarity. Their bickering and friendly insults were eventually always gonna lead to this, a story pre-written for them when they first met and that has been building friction between them all up until right now. Changyoon thinks that this could be what destiny is like, or fate, unavoidable and set permanently in stone, or maybe it's just Seungjoon scissoring his fingers and pushing his tongue deeper that forms the stars in his eyes.

"Fuck, God," Changyoon grunts out, not giving a shit anymore as to staying silent or not.

Seungjoon pulls out, circling the tip of his tongue around his spread out rim. "Do you not know any other curse words than that?"

Changyoon risks losing his balance for a second to slap Seungjoon's naked thigh with his hand, changing his grip around Seungjoon, stroking his dick in a tighter fist and running a thumb into the slit. 

"Fuck you," he says, Seungjoon shivering underneath him, "that's one."

The spit in his hand has mostly disappeared by now, leaving the glide rough and dry. Seungjoon keens as Changyoon squeezes the head of his cock digging the pad of his thumb into the vein on the underside just for the reward of Seungjoon’s tongue pushing deep into him again on a mewl. 

“Go to hell is another,” he continues, breath heavy now in the gradually stuffier room. 

They should open a window, definitely, but Changyoon couldn’t care less when he leans down to mouth lazily at Seungjoon’s tip. Seungjoon bucks up towards the heat of his mouth, chasing more than the little he’s getting, but Changyoon uses his weight to his advantage and pins him down by the hips. A shudder runs through Seungjoon, his thighs shaking from the strain against the bruising grip on his hip bone. 

Seungjoon pulls his mouth off, heaving for air. His breaths fan over Changyoon’s hole, the excessive amount of spit running down leaving an icy cold line along the back of his thigh. The contrast against his burning hot skin allows him to find the mercy to take Seungjoon deeper, lips stretched around the head while his tongue works into the slit as Seungjoon slips in a third finger.

“Ah, shit Changyoon,” Seungjoon moans out loud and clear, and any chance of plausible denial when having to explain themselves tomorrow is thrown out the window.  
Changyoon thinks there’s no use trying to put a lid on it anymore, and takes Seungjoon as far as he can in one fluid movement. He gags, of course, because Changyoon hasn’t exactly sucked a whole lot of dicks before and he didn’t relax his throat enough for this. It also doesn’t help that Seungjoon is bigger than he thought, and having to cover what he can’t take with his hand makes him feel somewhat embarrassed. Changyoon has small hands, alright, he knows that much, but everything combined together, his fingertips barely touching around the hilt, the slutty red shorts, and how he can’t even take all of him without choking, it all makes Seungjoon _seem_ bigger.

Changyoon always liked a challenge, though.

He dives down again, forcing himself lower than earlier. Seungjoon’s fingers curl inside him as he gags again, spit running from the corner of his mouth. Seungjoon’s full body tenses under him, and he begins saying something about Changyoon having to be careful, but it comes out choked when Changyoon swallows around the head. Seungjoon has his head thrown back against the dark sheets, desperately trying to focus on his own ministrations, but Changyoon’s mouth on him, around him, audibly gagging and humming appreciatively, that’s more than enough of a distraction. Changyoon, however, has not forgotten, and rocks back on Seungjoon’s fingers in time with the bobs of his head. 

Seungjoon is going insane. His head is spinning, and he can feel where Changyoon’s naked thighs are sticking to his own sweaty skin like velcro. Changyoon rides his fingers with more fervor, searching for the right angle and rhythm with a heightened urgency. Seungjoon’s abdomen caves when Changyoon’s chin finally bumps against his lower belly and his throat tightens around him. At the same time, Changyoon finds the right spot, Seungjoon’s fingertips brushing against his prostate with enough force to punch a needy moan out of him. It resonates from deep in Changyoon’s chest, through his mouth and straight to the fire in Seungjoon’s insides. His vision fills with black spots, and he squirms underneath Changyoon, the weight grounding him when he feels like he’s about to float off into space–

“Not yet,” Changyoon husks out, the sound of it rough and scolding.

His hand squeezes hard around Seungjoon’s cock, pressure concentrated at the thick vein. Seungjoon thrashes as his orgasm is robbed from him, he’d been ready, been so close, and he cries out something unintelligible. Changyoon strokes him languidly, the glide not better in the slightest, if not even harsher than earlier now that Seungjoon’s extra sensitive.

“No, fuck,” he whines, and Changyoon has to fight the satisfaction threatening to pull his lips into a smirk.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he comforts, circling the head with a gentle fingertip.

Seungjoon’s hips stutter at the stimulation, what felt like so little a few minutes ago now overwhelming, He’s left feeling lacking, empty, like he’s missing a part of himself, lost in the denial and struggling to stay afloat on the slivers of sanity he has left. 

“You’re a dick,” Seungjoon means to spit out, but it comes out vulnerable and brittle, and he feels pathetic knowing Changyoon could so easily break him up and tear him apart with a single touch.

Changyoon climbs off his chest and hovers closer, leaving little butterfly kisses all over his face and politely ignoring the mess on it without a comment. Seungjoon doesn’t want him to see his weaknesses and his flaws, so he hides in his elbow. 

“Babe,” Changyoon whispers against his neck, his lips tickling the sensitive skin where they brush against it. 

Seungjoon shivers at the sultry tone. When he doesn’t respond, Changyoon carefully moves the arm away by the wrist, and Seungjoon swallows despite his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth when he meets the dark hunger in Changyoon’s eyes.

“Don’t hide,” he continues, pecking every single one of Seungjoon’s fingertips with soft lips, “I wanna see you.” 

Seungjoon’s breath comes out ragged watching Changyoon play with his hand, using his middle finger to pull his bottom lip down. Scared this is nothing more than a dream, he doesn’t dare move, instead taking in the disheveled hair sticking to Changyoon’s damp forehead, the rosy tint in his cheeks, his lips, oh god those lips, those heavenly sinful lips, swollen and red and inviting. Seungjoon’s hand is guided, from Changyoon’s lips and down his chin. His fingers travel over the curve of the jaw, and further down. Changyoon leans into his space, eyes locked on his own. His fingers wrap around hot skin, over the pulse beating on either side of Changyoon’s delicate throat.

“I wanna see you,” Changyoon repeats, “as you fuck me into the mattress until I become a blubbering mess.”

Seungjoon’s heart rate picks up again significantly, his heart pounding so hard into his chest bone that had he not been intoxicated by all that Changyoon _is_ , he’d be worried he was gonna suffer from a heart attack.

“Holy motherfucking shit.”

It’s not only Seungjoon enjoying the view. Changyoon is drinking in everything he can, staring as Seungjoon’s adam’s apple jumps in his throat; at the sweaty skin glistening in the steadily hotter air; at his lips, parted and twice their normal size and now cracked from the drying spit; he devours it all, taking pride in the fact that he did this, he’s the reason Seungjoon’s fingers are tightening over his pulse points with an unspoken promise of more to come.  
He’s the one plucking at Seungjoon’s threads, ripping him open by the stitching to pull all the stuffing out into the light and rearrange them as he pleases. Seungjoon makes it easy for him, willingly surrenders the end of the string and allows Changyoon to unravel him. And like a ball of yarn, his control is shrinking, becoming smaller for each time Changyoon wraps the thread another round around his finger. Seungjoon makes it _so fucking easy_.

Changyoon kisses him, nice and slow and with all the time in the world. It’s hard to keep it that way with Seungjoon whining into his mouth and clawing at his shirt like it’s offending him, but the teasing is too rewarding to let go of when he never gets to see Seungjoon this needy and desperate. It’s especially fun when Changyoon captures his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it as he lies back onto the pillow to pull Seungjoon with him. Changyoon spreads his legs to accommodate his tiny hips, tantalisingly slow and deliberately knocking against Seungjoon’s cock. Seungjoon jolts at that and has to change the position of his arms to stay upright, eyelashes fluttering. 

“Lube?” Changyoon mouths the word along Seungjoon’s jaw.

At first Seungjoon doesn’t respond more than a shallow hum of agreement, his mind filled with too much white static noise to even register the questioning tone. At this point he’s established in his head that whatever comes out of Changyoon’s mouth is now the law, and who is he to deny him anything? But then Changyoon scrapes his teeth where his jawline ends and his neck begins, and he plummets back to earth. 

“Lube,” Changyoon reminds him, more of a command this time and less of a request.

Seungjoon is hesitant to pull away from the radiating heat of Changyoon’s body, instead fumbling blindly in the approximate direction of his bedside drawer for his stash. It’s far from effective, and the yearning for what’s to come outweighs the loss of right now, persuading him to crawl to the edge of the mattress to rummage through his drawer. Changyoon discards of his own shirt, which is now starting to cling uncomfortably to his chest and ribs. 

“Banana or mint choco chip?” Seungjoon asks, and Changyoon’s mind has a record scratch moment.

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

Seungjoon looks at him as if he’s offended. “What? Don’t yuck other people’s yums.”

Changyoon pries the bottles from Seungjoon’s hands to read the labels himself, ignoring Seungjoon’s protests. “Are you fucking serious? Who even likes artificial banana flavour?” He drops that one onto the mattress beside him to study the mint one. “I don’t know which is worse, the smell of banana dick or toothpaste dick. Won’t this like, make it feel cold?”

Seungjoon perks up at that, staggering on his elbows to hover over Changyoon’s belly. “It’s the heating kind,” he chirps, looking way too proud for a man who doesn’t own regular fucking lube.

“Dude,” Changyoon deadpans, “what the actual fuck.” Seungjoon pouts, and Changyoon might almost forgive him for being a freak. “More importantly, why is this almost empty?”

Seungjoon just grins mischievously. “Let’s find out.” 

He says it as something to fear, threat multiplied by the sinister click of the cap. Seungjoon flicks it open with his thumb too hard and the little plastic piece projectiles into the top of the bunkbed and straight into Changyoon’s face.

“If the lubes didn’t kill my boner then that definitely did the trick.”

Seungjoon scrambles to brush it away, and it clatters to the floor where it bounces around tauntingly. He masks his laughter horribly behind a chant of apologies, and although Changyoon didn’t necessarily ask for this ordeal he can’t help but see the humour of it all. His lips involuntarily crack into a smile, and he giggles too when Seungjoon muffles his laughter into the crook of his neck.

“Damn, what a fucking trainwreck,” Seungjoon mumbles, words barely audible when pressed against Changyoon’s skin between kisses.

“Yeah,” Changyoon agrees with a sigh, but tugs at Seungjoon’s hair to make him lift his head, “but you still haven’t fucked me and I’m sick of waiting.” 

He captures Seungjoon’s lips again, and this time it’s anything but controlled. There’s too much tongue and too little coordination, their teeth clacking together awkwardly in their rush to devour one another. Seungjoon doesn’t waste time squeezing the lube onto his fingers, getting it onto the sheets too but neither of them can find it in them to care about the mess.

That sounds like a problem for later-them.

Seungjoon circles Changyoon’s rim again, teasing it open with the pads of his fingers before pressing two in. Changyoon gasps into Seungjoon’s mouth, who didn’t bother warming the lube first. He mumbles unintelligible curses, but gets cut off when Seungjoon adds a third finger. The burn of the stretch combined with the coldness of the lube unexpectedly does something for him, and by the time Seungjoon brushes against his prostate he’s fully hard again.

They pant into each other’s mouths, Seungjoon mostly because Changyoon’s silent cries are enough for him to leak precome onto the sheets, but also because said sheets are rubbing against his sensitive cock. Changyoon lets out an especially loud moan ona full body shudder, clawing red lines along Seungjoon’s back, and it only feeds the hunger with a new level of urgency. Changyoon breaks first.

“Please,” he whimpers against the shell of Seungjoon’s ear, “please…”

Changyoon thinks he might cry if he doesn’t get Seungjoon’s dick in him in the next thirty seconds and he’s not above begging when Seungjoon keeps crooking his fingers like that, but he’s not gonna complain that he doesn’t have to. Seungjoon complies, and pulls out to cover himself with lube. He lines up, the scorching heat of Changyoon greatly contrasting the icy coolness. 

“You okay?” 

Changyoon nods eagerly, followed by a string of pleas. Had his own thoughts not been so far away, Seungjoon would’ve dragged it out, teased him longer, tortured him some more. But Seungjoon’s restraint is whittling away for each second he has to wait, and instead of backing off he leans into it, into Changyoon, steadily pushing deeper until he’s halfway. He halts for a mere moment, but it’s enough for a shiver to settle in the pit of his stomach and persuade him to thrust once, twice, gradually allowing himself to drown in the tight feeling. Their hips meet, Seungjoon pulling back and fucking right back in, the sound of skin against skin growing louder with each thrust.

Changyoon grabs at the hair on the back of his neck without a specific purpose, not sure if he wants to tug him down into a kiss or push him upright to fuck him deeper. His moans and curses fall freely among incoherent words that may or may not be Seungjoon’s name. Seungjoon is teetering embarrassingly close to the edge already, and he wraps a hand around Changyoon’s neglected cock, stroking him as he’s getting closer, too preoccupied with chasing his own orgasm to care about timing it with his thrusts. 

Surprisingly, Changyoon yells at the sudden stimulation.

Unsurprisingly, that’s what hurtles Seungjoon across the finishing line.

Seungjoon comes hard, and for several seconds he’s blind. He feels like he’s run into a brick wall, but in a good way, if that exists. His limbs are floating on pink morning skies, but at the same time he’s being tugged by a cement block to reside on the bottom of the dark sea. Still in a good way, of course.

He doesn’t realize Changyoon has come as well before he frantically grabs Seungjoon's hand to stop jerking at his dick, crying from the overstimulation. He pants out of relief once the contact ceases, and he melts into the mattress. Seungjoon couldn’t give less shits about the sticky experience later as he collapses on top of him.

“That was…” Changyoon trails off.

“Yeah,” Seungjoon breathes out dreamily, his head rising and falling with Changyoon’s chest.

They’re silent for a while, none of them knowing which words to speak to break the silence. Changyoon plays with a few strands of Seungjoon’s hair, and he nuzzles further into his neck and wraps his arms tighter around his body. The exhaustion catches up to them, and Seungjoon can feel himself being lulled to sleep by the safety of Seungjoon’s heartbeat. 

A door opens and closes somewhere in the dorm. 

“Fucking finally,” Hyojin’s voice comes out muffled through the door, but the words are clear as day in the quiet atmosphere, “I can’t believe they went at it all night.”

Changyoon tenses. “What does he mean all night?”

They contemplate for a long moment before they realise how daylight is creeping through the crack in the curtains. Changyoon pushes Seungjoon off to scan the room for his phone. It’s on the floor, but as he reaches for it he yelps from the pain in his lower back. He shoots daggers into Seungjoon the same way Seungjoon has a habit of doing, mentally cursing him out.

Seungjoon raises his hands in front of him as an act of innocence. “”Hey, don’t look at me! You literally begged for it.” 

He jumps off the bed in time to avoid the pillow whizzing just by his head in time, retrieving his own phone from the floor. The screen lights up, and the digital clock glares at him at full brightness. 

“Um,” he swallows, “when did we ‘go to bed’?”

“I don’t fucking know, probably around one,” Changyoon retorts and pulls the covers over himself, not because he’s cold but more because he feels even more exposed in the daylight. He sits up as Seungjoon comes back. “Do I even wanna know?”

Seungjoon doesn’t say anything, just clicks the lock button and shows the screen. There about 16 missed calls and at least a dozen more messages from the others, ranging from polite ‘please quiet down’ to Hyojin’s latest message consisting of only knife emojis. 

“Oh dear,” Changyoon murmurs.

They stare at each other in fear, hearts between their ears as the toilet flushes and Hyojin stomps back across the living room. They’re majorly fucked by the constant grumbling noise as he passes. The bedroom door closes once again, careful not to wake those asleep, but loud enough for Changyoon and Seungjoon to know it’s directed at them. Seungjoon checks the time again.

06:47AM.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for all this whoops [proceeds with zero regrets]
> 
> thanks for reading!! please leave a kudo and a lil comment and i'll reappear unexpectantly with more content after i move next month <3
> 
> hit me up on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BazzysAO3?s=09)


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